The Visitors
by HaraKyri
Summary: Reno tells his story of his horrific childhood whilst contemplating suicide. why is he like he is?


**The Visitors**

_this is my English coursework, the teacher gave us a title and said write a story, this is my work. Edited of course to fit reno's needs_

_p.s I got A star for this. My best work so far I think._

_**Disclaimer- I own nothing in connection to squaresoft, the only things in this that are mine are Molly and Nathan Parry and the plot. Hava fun reading it.**_

The evening sun has almost vanished behind the horizon, casting beautiful colours across the sky. Many shades of pink, red and orange litter the blue ocean above.

It is supposed to be beautiful, it is supposed to be tranquil, it is supposed to make a person feel at peace when gazing at Mother Nature's art. Supposing doesn't work.

I sit out on the rocky cliff edge staring at the two oceans above and below. Feet dangling off the precipice above roaring waves of the sea. I pray that the sky can help me find a reason for my existence. I'm praying that I can find the reason to prevent me from leaping off my perch, to my doom in the icy depths below.

A slight zephyr whooshes past me, ruffling my long red hair into my face. It is pushing against my back as if urging me to hurry up and jump. I sigh gently, it's bad enough the occupants of this world want me dead but apparently the elements do as well.

My watch bleeps at me signalling the start of another hour. I roll up the sleeve of my blue jacket and study the face. 9:00 it says brightly in its luminescent yellow LEDs. Smaller numbers in the corner show the date: 12/07. It's Friday the 13th tomorrow and also my birthday. Ha I guess I was fated to be unlucky my whole life then. Not many people should be contemplating suicide on the eve of their birthday though. I know, I should be out celebrating another year of my time on this Earth with my family and friends. Well, I have no friends, they left me a while back, dead by either my hand or by one of my enemies. I have no family either, they were taken from me a long time ago. I have Friday the 13th to thank for that.

You want to know why I am so depressed? Why my family is gone? Why I want to commit suicide on the anniversary of my birthday and the day my whole life was taken from me? You want to know why? Well... I'll tell you why.

13 years ago on the 13th of July, Molly Parry looks pleadingly at her sullen son.

"Renny, dear, don't you want to open your presents?" I am that sullen son. I look up at my mother,

"Don't want to. Daddy isn't here." I mumble sadly, my bright green eyes watering, I feel like I am going to cry. Mummy sighs, she scoots some of the brightly wrapped presents to the end of the sofa and sits down on the clear space, her arms reach down and pull me onto her lap, wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Daddy couldn't get time off work, honey. He's away on business to make money so you can have all these lovely presents. Don't be sad on your birthday Reno. Open your presents and me and you will have a little party afterwards with cake and jelly, ok?" She whispers soothingly. I whimper quietly, I know my Daddy is on a business trip, I know how hard he worked so we could move out of the poverty stricken streets where we once lived. How hard he still works so we don't fall back into that poverty. We have quite a bit of wealth now and it's all thanks to my Daddy.

The wooden front door bangs and then opens all the way revealing a worn man in a dark blue business suit. My Daddy.

Nathan Parry was a well known drug dealer, I didn't find that out until years later though. At the time I just figured he was talking about vases and heroes when he mentioned crack and heroin on his mobile phone. He was a medium sized man with a head of thick red hair which I also had. He loved ruffling my hair and used to tell me to grow it really long. Daddy had a thick goatee which made him look menacing. Mummy used to tell him to shave it off in case he scared me, but he always remained firm, sticking to the point that it helped him do his job with broken vases and heroes. His warm brown eyes usually looked strained when he came home from work so I used to make it my mission to make him smile and crease his eyes. I still miss his smile, it was a happy carefree smile which made you feel that even though the world was collapsing you would be ok. A secret that I knew about my Daddy that mum didn't want me to know is that he had a gun. I saw it one time when Daddy came home bleeding, he was grinning and yelling about a huge street fight to get some drugs. Mummy had ushered me out of the room but I sneaked a peek when she took his jacket off, it was strapped into a shoulder holster on his side, I always admired my brave strong daddy a lot more after that.

My grin radiates the room as Daddy closes the door behind him. He casually picks me up as I sprint to him as if I weigh no more than a bag of sugar. He laughs and his eyes crinkle happily. My mummy walks over and Daddy slips an arm around her waist.

"I thought you couldn't leave work?" she asks him quietly, he shrugs.

"Got John to sort it out, couldn't miss my little boys 5th Birthday could I?" He laughs again, but it's stopped short when he sees all the unopened presents.

"Huh...? These presents haven't been opened." He ponders. I look the other way, I don't want daddy to know I was unhappy on my birthday for some reason. He laughs again,

"You guys are too kind, thanks for waiting for me to start the party!" He yells the last word and begins tickling me and mummy furiously. Quite a feat considering he only has two hands and one of them is supporting me on his side. I burst out laughing letting free a high pitched squeal of joy and squirm out of his grasp. I drop to the floor and toddle behind a golden present and hide. Daddy smiles again as I realise that this is a big present and my intense curiosity begs me to rip it open and find out what's inside.

My face lights up in glee as I uncover a big red toy fire engine. I vroom it up and down the carpet, eagerly anticipating hours of creating mini adventures for my fire engine to have. Daddy still has his arm around Mummy lovingly and I feel a strong feeling of love for my parents which I never want to end.

Unfortunately, every happy moment ends, and that one ended with traumatic results. A loud knock at the front door jerks us out of our euphoric moment. The loving family scene vanishes as Daddy switches to "work mode." He reaches inside his jacket and pulls a revolver out from underneath it. Mummy gasps at it whilst I just gaze in awe. She tells him quietly to put it away but he silences her with a gesture. Another knock and still none of us answer it... .People never come to visit us, and the only ones who do are bad people. It's louder this time and more urgent, Daddy turns to Mummy and whispers quickly.

"Take Reno and hide in our wardrobe. If it is who I think it is then don't make a sound. Ok?" Mummy nods and grabs my hand, she begins running out of the room as I start to whine my protest. I take one look at Daddy who is watching us with a hint of sadness in his eyes. He winks at me and gets in a fighting stance as I am dragged out the room.

We sprint down the hall to Mummy and Daddy's room, I remember my fire engine and pull back to go get it but a crash followed by a bang prevents me from succeeding. Mummy drags harder and opens the wardrobe doors. It is dark and musty, filled with many coats, dresses and suits. Mummy grabs a jacket off the hanger and lays it on the floor. She sits on it and motions for me to follow her. I sit down in the darkness and watch the light diminish as Mummy closes the door.

That noise sounded like the door had been broken down. I listen to three voices in the living room. Two are shouting and the other one who sounds like daddy is calm and composed. This makes the other two voices angrier and there's a loud quick bang like a shot. Daddy raises his voice in a half yell but can't finish it because more shots ring out followed by a loud thump.

Mummy whimpers as cruel laughter echoes from the other room into ours then dances around our heads mockingly. I want to see if Daddy is ok and help him with the bad people but Mummy is still holding my arm from when she pulled me in. Aquamarine jewels are crying softly but I don't know why. I think it is because she is scared of the men. I don't realise she is mourning the death of my father. I guess that I should stay with Mummy because she would be really scared if I left. I put my left arm comforting around her right arm and drape my body across her lap. She pulls me close and whimpers incoherently.

A voice carries to our cupboard and I manage to make it out.

"Let's find the runt and the whore and have some fun" Mummy holds me tighter. Footsteps are heard and I hear the familiar creak of the floorboard outside of Mummy and Daddy's room. I am beginning to get scared but I need to find out if Daddy is ok, he is always ok in the end but I want to make sure.

The thin stream of light entering the wardrobe between the gap in the doors vanishes. It takes me a moment to figure out why. Someone is blocking the light. I pray it is Daddy. The door opens slowly and Mummy whimpers again.

It isn't Daddy. Instead there is grossly ugly face. One eye scarred shut with horrible skin disfigurations while the other blinks with cold black irises. Horribly mangled yellow teeth half concealed under thin lips sneer at me. I tremble, this man has the look of someone who has killed many and likes it. Mummy tries to pull me behind her to conceal me. Too late, the killer has seen me. Scarred hands grip my wrists and wrench me from my Mummy's grasp and the safety of the wardrobe, to the vulnerable openness of the room. Another person is sat on the bed quite casually, they look at me and leer. I discover with a shock that this person is female. Her features are quite sharp and cold. A long pointy nose hangs over her mouth and I ponder for a second whether she could lick the bogeys out with her tongue. Her mouth was set in a cruel "we're going to win and there's nothing you can do about it" smile. She didn't seem very intimidating to me until I looked into her eyes. Icy pools of never ending darts that could pierce holes into you just by looking. She has light blonde hair which is cut short, it feathers around her face as if to accentuate her prettiness, but there isn't any prettiness to focus on. It just makes her eyes seem even more terrifying.

The man yanks my Mummy out of the wardrobe as well. She kicks and screams at him. Raking her long nails down his face like talons. He yells and points at me. The woman spins me around and presses something cold and hard on the back of my head. She has a death grip on my shoulder so there is no way I can escape. Mummy stops her attack and goes limp. Her pretty face is sombre like she has lost hope. I cry out to her and the woman who holds me hits me not that gently with the object.

"Leon, what shall we do with the kid? Kinda feel tight killing him." The woman says. He thinks for a second then shrugs.

"Take him out quickly then Roz." Mummy shrieks as the object is taken off my head. It hits me with great force on the back of the neck and my legs buckle. Vision bleeds as I fall to the ground then black...

I wake to the sound of agonised screaming. Jumbled thoughts race across my brain as I try to distinguish what is going on. It feels like several thousand elephants are playing rugby across my head and back and my vision keeps blurring. I want to go back to sleep but the wailing is keeping me awake. With a painful jolt I remember Leon and Roz – the two bad guys. What happened to Mummy? I wish the screaming would stop so I could remember what happened to Mummy. My cheeks burn under my eyes, I gingerly place my fingers on them and when I look at them they are covered in sticky red blood. What had they done to me? What had they done to mummy? The screaming is still persistent to my ears, though now it just sounds like a drone. I blink my eyes repetitively though they feel like someone has tied a brick to my eyelashes. Vision is coming back to me yet all I can see is red.

Red walls, red floor, red bed sheet, red... Mummy? I stare in horror as my brain screams at me not to look. Mummy is sat on a chair. She is leaning precariously at an edge, why hasn't she fallen off? I notice her hands are behind her back. Why is she holding on like that? Her clothes are shredded and soaked in blood. Where did it come from? I look at her and it dawns on me. Her legs are slashed and bleeding, numerous gashes criss cross all over her pale skin. Her arms aren't in a much better way. Blood pours slowly down her arms and behind her back to her wrists then pools beneath her feet. Her face sports two twin gashes each underneath her eyes, they are going to leave huge scars when they heal up. I look into her aquamarine eyes which are fading. She stares into space, her screams reduced to small whimpers as her energy gushes out of her limbs in the form of blood. I stare into those fading green orbs and emotion overwhelms me. I want to cry, I want to scream and shout and stomp around the room, I want to hug Mummy and tell her everything will be ok without having to lie. No tears flow, I can't bring myself to have a tantrum but I can hug Mummy. My legs wobble alarmingly but I manage to get to Mummies side. Small arms wrap themselves around her slender waist and she bows her head into the embrace.

We stay like this for a long time. I could stay like this for ever, but unfortunately stiff limbs and a banging headache scream their protest. I release her waist but her head doesn't rise. I shake her arms gently but she doesn't stir. A sudden thought occurs to me but I shake it away. Mummy is just sleeping, that's all. I tiptoe to listen to her heartbeat but I can't hear it. Mummy's belly isn't moving up and down like she is breathing either. I yell vulgar profanities that I overheard Daddy saying before. Mummy would smack me for being so bad but as long as I knew she wasn't ...

Mummy doesn't move. I yell again, louder and louder. Still no movement, I try a change of tactic. Hitting her lightly in the belly. She still doesn't move. I'm beginning to panic. My punches become harder and harder and I begin yelling again. Mummy remains motionless. My headache has taken enough if this abuse and decides I need to take a lie down. I become really light headed and my legs give way again.

My face is sticky. It is a strange wet stickiness that glues itself to your skin. I groggily pull my head off the carpet and feel the sticky liquid drip off me. I carefully rise to a sitting position and see Mummy again. She still hasn't moved. Her eyes still are closed in mock sleep and her mouth set in a tiny smile. She looks peaceful. I touch her ankle gingerly. It's cold. Mummy is dead, I can't deny it any longer. My eyes begin brimming with tears but I brush them away. I have to be a strong boy now.

Cautiously I stand up, testing my legs to see if they'll hold. They do. I inch my way to the door of the bedroom, leaving my resting mother behind me, tied up on the chair. The hallway is littered with carnage. Leon and Roz must have decided to destroy our house as well as the lives. A pretty pink vase which stood on a polished wooden table is now pretty pink pieces of porcelain strewn about the floor, and the table a splintered mess with only one leg left. The living room door looms closer and I grasp the door knob. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself I open the door to the room.

Destruction and chaos have run amok in this room. The television set is fizzing and smoking in the corner. The window has been smashed and glass shards hang from the pane. Our front door is hanging off its hinges creaking when the wind pushes it. My unopened presents have been stomped on and thrown around. They lie in a crumpled heap of gold and silver paper. My eyes stray to the lifeless body sprawled in the centre of the floor, feet parallel to the front door. Seven bullet holes embellish his blue jacket, surrounded by dribbles of more crimson blood. Another bullet hole has made its mark on my Daddy's forehead. I try to avert my eyes, to respect my Daddy's death but I have an insatiable curiosity to find out what a brain actually looks like. It isn't hard to see, and as soon as my stomach realises what I am viewing it sets itself the task of making me vomit everything I have eaten today.

After I finish throwing up a flash of red catches my eye, this red isn't the dark crimson of blood though. It is a new shiny plastic red like my ... I walk sluggishly to my new fire engine and pick it up. One of the wheels has fallen off and the top is severely dinted. It has been destroyed. I cradle it to my chest as if it is the only thing left in my life. Crystal tears drip down my cheeks merging with the blood of my gashes, turning them crimson as I hold the toy. I drop to the floor and pull my knees up to my head and cry myself to sleep.

The worst Birthday ever don't you think? Well that's it for me. Story over. What? You want to know what happened afterwards? Ok, I'll make it brief, I have something to attend to.

Well, all that you need to know about my life after that is that I survived. Some methods I took to survive might be frowned upon but hey, it's a living. My parent's deaths have been avenged. I made Leon and Roz's passing slow. Slow and painful. Too bad a lot more people have died as well by my hands. To make it out of the poverty I fell in, I had to rise above the others, if that meant killing the others then so be it.

I am a ruthless killer. When I was 16 I got into a brawl in a pub in sector 6. I took on 7 guys with just my beer bottle as a weapon. Some guy in a blue suit walked in afterwards, saw the carnage and one skinny red haired guy amidst it all. He introduced himself as Tseng of the Turks and took me in. I kill for a living, hired under Shinra. Just like my Daddy was, of course I only discovered that after I killed a few dozen people. He was a drug gang lord, asked to join the Turks but denied them, said he liked the drug business best. That's how he got us all the money, he killed lots of people in cold blood over drugs. Many innocent as well. He was involved with a huge street fight where hundreds died, was the guy who started it in fact. He deserved to die, I know that now. Yes, I am a hypocrite. I've killed many as well, I am also a major drug dealer on the side. I can't judge whether people deserve to die. Maybe I deserve to die? Maybe I can start anew in the next life? Maybe have a proper childhood without drugs, violence or prostitution? Maybe...?

The wind rustles my long red hair. It goes down past my shoulders in a ponytait while a few loose strands hang across my face and irritate my eyes.Its quite long nowadays, long, like Daddy wanted it to be. I glare at the night sky. The sun is long gone, far beyond the horizon. I try to drink in the image of the stars and the glowing moon, so serene, so innocent, so unlike me. I raise myself to my feet on my perch, eyes never leaving the sky. My blue suit is creased but I don't care. I am never going to wear it again. I take off the jacket and dump it on the floor, same goes with my gun and holster and my EMR. My existence in this world serves no reason, at least apart from giving people their judgement day before their time. Death isn't the way to live even if I do get paid a lot, and I can't live with the death anymore. The people I have killed, they haunt me. In my dreams I see them, the women, the children, the men. All of them.

Casting one last look at the beautiful sky I take a step towards the end of the cliff. I can hear the turbulent waves crashing the rocks below me. I take one big intake of breath and take the next step off the land. Gravity pulls me towards the deep blue ocean below, I'm falling. Falling to my doom? Falling to my peace. Icy liquid hits me and drags me below. I smile. No more death, no more Shinra, no more nightmares, no more air. No more...

_what you think? Please tell me in a review. I LUV reviews_


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